Tokyo Battlefield
by Hermitcrab960
Summary: On these streets, you either hear legends or become one. Either become the gambler or prepare to be the token. An AU of action, mystery, and some intriguing history. A dab romance, vigilantes, and literary allusion. Take the plunge.
1. The Steaming Streets

My first fanfic in a long time. Hopefully I'll keep this baby rolling 'till the end. As always, **Bakuman is the property of Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.**

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><p>The steaming streets of Tokyo have a way of instigating gossip. Yes, the summer heat, causing box shaped businessmen to pull up the sleeves of their white button shirts, and schoolgirls to fan their thighs with their long uniform skirts, thus garnering the attention of their male peers. This unbearable heat causes a phenomenon of rude behavior, and the acceptance thereof. A reasonable reaction: listening to a rumor about the couple of male grad students living next door beats having to remind yourself that, even with SPF 90, you're still going to get an awful sunburn, and possibly skin cancer. Skin cancer isn't exactly a breadwinner in regular conversation.<p>

As such, it is on this one particular day, nearing the end of summer and during the third week of the school year, that the temperature reached ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Tokyo was in luck: the top headline for the day's paper was a real catch. A brawl between the infamous vigilante Crow and the city's syndicate Otters in Ameyoko became the ultimate distraction from the suffocating humidity. The classroom 3-2 of Yakusa North High was no exception; the second year students formed small groups around their desks, gabbing with excitement as they loosened their collars and ties.

"The Otters have nothing on Crow—he's a genius!"

"Genius my ass. All he does is pull stupid pranks—on some top dogs, I admit, but it's still just pranks. He's probably some college dropout that thinks he's the shit or something. He should get a life."

"Well said, Tomoko!"

"Is it true that the Kiyoshi Knight was there? My brother said he saw him—white hair and everything."

Yes, the students of Yakusa were eager for conversation on such an unusually hot day. Everyone that is, except for one. In the left corner of the back row of desks, far away from the giggles and passionate debates of his peers, sat the awestruck Moritaka Mashiro. A square of bright light flickered on his frozen expression, boxing the space in between his black widened eyes. His left hand shifted his phone back and forth in his palm, coated in perspiration. The right thumb hovered over the phone keyboard in hesitation. I need to respond, he reminded himself, but the thumb dared not make a move, lest he make a life changing mistake.

**From: mihochan**

**RE: just checking **

**Do you like me?**

She was certainly forward. Needless to say, Mashiro was very much in a tight spot. How do you respond to something like that? _Yes, Miho; I've liked you ever since the start of middle school, and had secretly been drawing you from behind those past two years; and ever since you've been going to that private school I've been going nuts because I can't wait to get your texts and—_Mashiro realized that might be getting in creepy territory. He leaned back against the wooden school chair, biting his lip in anxiety.

_A simple 'yeah' could work_, thinks Mashiro, his thumb finally inching towards the flickering screen. Then a sudden thought: maybe too simple? The Master of Over Thinking once again put his thumb on pause as he pondered.

Though simple and sweet, the message may give Miho the impression that it's half-hearted and take offense. Mashiro decided that he'd prefer avoiding his friend's anger; a fight would distance them even further apart. Being in different schools was distant enough, in his humble opinion. On the other hand, the sixteen year old teen felt uncomfortable sending any longwinded text—especially if he ended up sounding like a creep. _'Who knows,'_ thought Mashiro,_ 'maybe she's not even talking about __**that**__ kind of like. Maybe she means it in a friendly way. '_In the back of mind, his instincts screamed _"Are you kidding me? Just text her something already!"_

Mashiro sighed in resignation of his better impulses. His faithful right thumb tapped speedily across the keyboard.

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: just checking**

**Of course; we're friends.**

He pressed send immediately. _No more second thoughts._

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><p>A known fact: Kaya Miyoshi can be impatient.<p>

"Mashiro! Hurry up!"

Very impatient.

"The trains gonnna leave in ten minutes! Come on!"

As he tried to shuffle out of his school shoes, Mashiro repeatedly reminded himself of this fact. Not that he held anything against Kaya for it: oftentimes her impatience was well needed when he's especially sluggish. If her nagging was grating, it was only because it rang true.

"Mashiro!"

"I'm coming," he said, quickly tying his sneaker laces into fat bowties. He tapped his left shoe into place against the hardwood floor before sprinting out of the school entryway. Kaya jogged in place by the school gate in anticipation for Mashiro, her high ponytail bobbing back and forth like a pendulum. Her expression was ecstatic, as if sparklers were going off in her eyes. As soon as Mashiro reached the gate, Kaya grabbed his sleeve and started running. She weaved both herself and Mashiro through pedestrians and climbed up the long set of stairs towards the train station with enthusiastic strides.

Entering the shuttle, the two friends gasped for air. The other passengers gave the students only short a sideways glance before tuning out their existence. When he finally caught his breath, Mashiro grabbed onto a train latch. He glanced back at a gasping Kaya.

"I can run pretty good without you pulling."

A Chesire grin crosses Kaya's face as she follows her friend in holding a train latch. "Yeah, but we would've never made it on time. Slowpoke."

Mashiro only made an exasperated sigh; as the train began to move he slid his free hand into his pocket, feeling for smooth metal. "Did she reply yet?" asked Kaya, making a loud yawn as she did so. His phone out of his pocket, Mashiro pressed on his mailbox tab. **No new messages**. He shook his head.

"So much for impulsiveness," he mused discouragingly, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

"Why are you asking, anyhow? You talk with her twenty-four seven."

Kaya shrugged. "I got my phone taken away last Friday. I don't know anything now."

Mashiro smiled. If there was one thing you could admire about Miyoshi (and there were many things to admire), it was her loyalty to Miho. Even after Azuki's transfer into private school, Kaya's single-handedly sustained their tradition of walking home together. The girls were practically joined at the hip—they've been best friends since elementary school, and their friendship has never wavered since then. He was almost jealous of their sisterhood, for he truly never had a best friend, or at least a kinship as close as they did. One of his few childhood memories was being read a picture book by his mother. The book was kind of hokey, and the pictures were cartoony; still, the last page showing two friends running off to their next adventure struck a chord with him as a child. "Where's my best friend?" he'd ask his mother, and each time she would say "I'm sure you'll find your friend soon enough. Everyone has their fated match."

He didn't know about the fate part, but Mashiro could agree that he'd eventually find something close to what the girls share. _'I mean, I can't be that pathetic, can I?' _

Mashiro found that couldn't answer that question, which was unquestionably frightening.

"Our stop's coming."

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><p>When Mashiro and Kaya arrived at the gate of the Junchiro Private Academy, Miho walked out of the school entryway with her usual grace. Unusually, someone was walking close beside her: a tall boy with scruffy light brown hair and a slick pair of square framed glasses. The stranger seemed to be talking frantically, and his close proximity with Miho didn't sit well in Mashiro's stomach. As the pair got closer Mashiro caught on to the last part of their conversation.<p>

"I'm sorry," said Miho, "I know you mean well, but they're my own problems. It's my business, not yours."

"Miho, I-"

"Goodbye, Takagi."

Miho picked her pace, fast walking in rigid steps. As she met her friends at the gate, she took no heed in giving the stranger the time of day, who was visibly distraught. "Let's go," she said in a hushed tone, already walking two steps ahead of Kaya and Mashiro. The stranger's countenance held a deep frown, sneaking his fisted hands down into the bottom of his pockets. As she passed by him, Kaya gave him an apologetic smile, than hurried to Miho's side. Mashiro gave the scruffyhead a grim, passing glance before catching up with the girls.

Kaya was bubbling with curiosity. "Who was that, huh? He looks cute. Was he trying to ask you out?"

Miho's face was stern; if Mashiro hadn't known her he would've thought she was stone. "No," she said coldly. Mashiro had never known her to be this cross, even when they argued.

Miyoshi seemed to also take notice. "What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

The raven haired beauty looked down unto her pristine dress shoes. Mashiro squinted his eyes, trying to get a scope of what Miho could be feeling. To his misfortune, her expression was as blank as a slate; only when she finally looked up from her shoes towards Kaya did she form a gesture: a pout. "You didn't answer any of my texts last weekend."

Miyoshi made a silent gasp, her mouth in a symmetrical o-shape before putting her hands together in an apologetic prayer. "I know, I know! So sorry!"

No sooner had she started praying for forgiveness, Kaya's expression became slightly annoyed and her hands shifted onto her hips. "But you know that Haruchi-chi sensei, the chorus teacher? Took my phone away! I wasn't even using it; I was taking it out of my pocket so that I could change for gym class—I mean, I wasn't changing right there and then, but still. He's not even my teacher! What gives!"

A small, giggly laugh from Miho was all it took to calm Mashiro's fears. He had to hand it to Kaya, she knew how to lighten the mood.

'_Still, though,'_ thought Mashiro as the girls chatted happily, _'what's going on with her? First asking if I like her, and then—that kid. Takagi.'_

Just because you know jealously isn't a charming trait doesn't stop one from being jealous. Mashiro learned this the hard way, copious thoughts swirling around in his head like a toilet bowl as they walked Miho home.

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><p><strong>From: mihochan<strong>

**Subject: Good evening **

**Hey! =)**

**From: morimasi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**Hey. What's up?**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

**Nothing. Just want to talk w/ you! =)**

**So…you just think of me as just a friend?**

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**Well…I mean, there are other ways.**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

**Like…? **

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**A sister, I guess. **

**You and Miyoshi, I should say.**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

…**Anything else?**

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**Um. I guess some of these ways exceed friendship.**

**Why are you asking all the sudden?**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

**Because I really like you, Mashiro. **

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**Really? **

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

**Yes! **

**Do you think I'm lying? =/**

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**No. It's just…**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

…**?**

**You don't believe Miyoshi, do you?**

**About Takagi?**

**There's nothing between us.**

**In fact, that was only the second time he talked to me.**

**I hardly know him.**

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**It's not that.**

**I just wish it was done in person, you know?**

**Like, so we could hug or something. **

**Like, 'hurray, we like each other!'**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

**Yeah. That would've been better.**

**I wish I was still in Yakusa with you guys. =(**

**Then we wouldn't have this mess.**

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**Yeah.**

**You know, you've been different too.**

**I mean, today you seemed kind of distant.**

**Is everything okay?**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

**It's nothing.**

**I'm fine.**

**Sorry. I need to go to bed. **

**Pre-calc exam tomorrow.**

**From: morimashi77**

**RE: Good evening**

**See you tomorrow, then. **

'**Night.**

**From: mihochan**

**RE: Good evening**

**See ya. **

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><p>The next morning, the Mashiro household got an early phone call.<p>

"Moritaka, it was Azuki's mother, Miyuki. Azuki's been kidnapped."

Mashiro couldn't help but fiddle with his phone that he swore felt like it was burning his pocket.


	2. Like Something Out of Prime Time

_Bakuman is the property of Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata_**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Excerpts from"The Japan Times"<strong>

** Another antic was fulfilled by the masked menace Crow last night, setting off sparks in both the Ameyoko streets and the public eye. The perpetrator placed fireworks on top of a car—a mixture of fountains and ground spinners- and proceeded to light them up. Some fighting ensued between the owners of the car and Crow, but no other innocents were harmed in last night's roughhouse. In a turn of events, the owners of the car turned out to be Otters members upon investigation; the police are not willing to reveal their identities to uphold "the nature of the volunteer organization". Yet again, Crow left the scene before the police could apprehend him. **

** Young Miho Azuki, age sixteen, has been reported missing as of last night. Police have not yet deciphered the reason behind her disappearance, though the mother Miho Miyuki has stated she believes this to be "a kidnapping". The police note that they will probably ask for help from Otters in order to increase chances of finding her. **

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><p>Her right hand was hovering over her heart as if someone shot right through it. Seeing Kaya like this was almost enough for Mashiro to tear up, but he fought back that urge. He had to be strong for her.<p>

Kaya's voice trembled as she spoke. "I was gonna get my phone today. I promised I'd text her as soon as I got it back."

Mashiro made a slight, sympathetic nod. He huddled closer to Kaya as her hands rose up to her face, awaiting newborn tears. "She's missing?" said the teary-eyed girl, resting her forehead upon Mashiro's shoulder. "Why?"

Mashiro bit his lip, silently answering his friends question to himself as she wept onto his school uniform. _I don't know._

The announcement of Miho's disappearance in the news set a dour mood for the rest of the school day at Yakusa North. Usual spirited banter by the students of 3-2 was replaced by hushed voices and silent misgivings. Mashiro, though quite struck by this shift in atmosphere, was thankful for this unusual reservation. Many of his classmates had been in the same elementary and middle school as Miho; he couldn't imagine what he would've done if they made her the new raging topic of shallow discussion. The mood also led to be very lonesome, for Kaya had decided to stay home from school that day. Remembering this morning, Mashiro had agreed that it was probably for the best.

In his last class of the day, Mashiro looked out from the window in a gloomy reverie. The picturesque streets of Tokyo seemed to be unaware of his troubles; the sky was a calm light blue, and the skyscrapers seemed to shimmer and glow from the sun's rays. The temperature had lowered some since the latter day's heat wave, to a comfortable seventy-eight degrees. Mashiro frowned at the peaceful Tokyo which stretched out before him.

_ What could've happened?_ thought Mashiro, turning himself away from the window. From what he could tell, Miho had been safe at home at the time they were texting each other. Her mother called it a kidnapping, but the evidence was lacking: there were no signs of anyone breaking into the house, nor any witnesses to account for it.

With only a couple more minutes of class left, Mashiro glanced out the window once more. This time, a new figure entered the serene scenery: the tall, disheveled figure leaning against the school gate. He wore a Junchiro Academy uniform, and fiddled with a familiar pair of square framed glasses.

Mashiro's eyes widened. He bit his lip. _What's he doing here?_

* * *

><p>"I'm here because of Miho," said Takagi. He stood up from leaning against the gate, his eyes brimming with determination, brows furrowed tight. "You're her friend, right? I need to speak with you."<p>

Mashiro clenched his teeth. _What does he want? Why now of all times?_ He walked past the scruffy-headed stranger, holding his book bag so that it rested behind his back. "Sorry, but now isn't the best time," he said, with a hint of bitterness to his voice. Like a broken record, Mashiro tried to remind himself to not look back, not to give a hint of surrender.

"Wait a minute! I'm being serious, here; there's something about Miho's disappearance—no, her kidnapping, that you should know about."

The walls were crumbling down. Mashiro stopped walking, but refused to look back. Curiosity was beginning to get the better of him, but he wasn't giving up without a fight. "What could you possibly know that I don't?" asked Mashiro. His grip tightened over the strap of his book-bag, his eyes staring into the loose pebbles along the sidewalk.

He heard the other boy, Takagi, make a deep sigh before continuing. "I might have an idea of who kidnapped her."

Mashiro knew he lost at that point. He turned around, partly astonished, and mostly in disbelief. He tried to find a hint of falter, some sort of sign that what Takagi had said was some kind of bad joke; however, his counterpart still held that steadfast determination and look of honesty that he'd shown since they've met. _He might actually know something, _thought Mashiro, though it hurt his petty teenage pride. _Can I really walk away after hearing this?_

The immature part of himself answered that he could, but Mashiro knew better than to take that advice. _I'm just going to have to cooperate with this guy._

"Alright then. What do you know?"

Takagi looked around; though school had been over for at least ten minutes, students and teachers alike were still straggling off from Yakusa North. He walked up to Mashiro, a nervous smile on his face, and rested a hand on the other boys' shoulder. "This isn't really the best place to talk about this," said Takagi, gently leading Mashiro to turn around. "There's a nearby play area that hardly anyone goes to. We can talk there."

As he followed Takagi through the busy streets, Mashiro begrudged the glasses-wearing stranger for creating such a cheerful façade; all throughout their walk, Takagi tried to make small-talk with him, making comments here and there about their surroundings as they passed by. When they encountered a small magazine stand, the brunette came to a halt. "Sorry, gotta get the new issue of Shonen Jump," said Takagi, rummaging through his bag for his wallet.

"I remember when they used to publish _Dragon Ball_ back when I was a kid. Those were the days!" Slipping change onto the tabletop, the cashier pulled out the new issue into Takagi's hand. "Jump really hasn't added any new names into the mix lately—I've really been getting into _Blue Exorcist_ from Jump Square, and I think it'd be cool if Jump could bring in some new artists." He looked fondly over his new issue, then turned to look at Mashiro. "Do you read Jump, Mashiro?"

Mashiro nodded; he, too, had his own nostalgia over the magazine, especially in the days when he'd reread old chapters of _Ashita no Joe_ or catch the latest chapter of _Hunter X Hunter_.

"Man, we gotta have some sort of Jump discussion one day, and read all the issues we own. That'd be a blast!"

Mashiro didn't know what to think of Takagi; on the one hand, he was rather annoyed, even bitter, that this other guy who clearly had some relation with the girl he liked so far seemed unaffected by her absence. On the other hand, the scruffy head seemed like a nice guy; he even seemed like the type of person he'd naturally want to become friends with, like Kaya. _He's definitely an oddball, though_, Mashiro noted, as the other boy seemed to singlehandedly take control of most of the conversation.

"You know, I'd never been to a public high school—any public school, really. My mom's into private education, with the higher statistics and all that. Still, I wonder if I'd enjoy myself more if I went to your school. Yakusa seems like a nicer place to be. Ah well, can't help it."

Mashiro was tempted to interrupt, seeing that they were getting close to their meeting place. "So, how exactly do you know my name?" The thought had been burning inside his brain since Takagi had asked about Jump.

"From Miho, of course—though she herself didn't tell me. I just happened to learn by accident." Adjusting the position of his glasses, Takagi smiled wide towards the other boy. "My names Takagi, by the way. Akito Takagi—very strict sounding, don't you think?"

"I guess," replied Mashiro, though he was more focused on Takagi's meeting placed of choice. The play area wasn't just desolate, it was also a dump: the swing set, with only two swings, were aged with rust, and the whole park had a depressing scent to it, like a beer that's sat too long in the sun. Takagi headed over to the metal jungle gym and leaned against its metal bars. Mashiro placed his bag onto the smooth ground, shifting the dirt around with his shoes as he began to speak. "So," said Mashiro, "what really happened?"

For the first time that day, Takagi seemed hesitant to speak. He hummed from the back of his throat, as if to ponder about how he should explain it, then gave his answer. "What would you think if I said that Otters was behind Miho's disappearance?"

"I'd say you were a conspiracy theorist," replied Mashiro, with a bite of skepticism. _Well this is going well._

"Just hear me out," said Takagi. He sat himself on one of the metal bars of the jungle gym, his palms clutched around his knees, his school bag limp against the gym bars.

"Granted, I hadn't known Miho that well, even if we were in the same class. In my mind, we were both just classmates that just so happened to get pretty good grades on a daily basis. Nothing special. I don't even know her that well now—probably not as much as you, I'm sure.

Still, it was just a couple of weeks ago that I discovered her secret. I had left my book-bag behind by mistake afterschool, so I had to walk back into the classroom. When I came back towards the gate, Miho was waiting there, talking with this big guy—he looked kind of suspicious, kind of like one of those spies you see in the movies, but not as suave looking. Anyway, he handed her a letter, along with a wad of money. She looked really mad at that point: she pushed the money back into his palm and walked off."

"Who was he? What did he want with her?"

"I'm about to get to that. Anyway, the next day was school as usual, and I was still deciding whether to confront her over it or not. Later that day during lunch break I noticed that Miho suddenly left her seat. It was weird, since she was talking with the other girls and then, out of nowhere, just ups and leaves. She had looked out the window just before she got up. Curiosity getting the better of me, I looked out as well: and wouldn't you know it, it was the same guy from yesterday, except…"

Takagi paused for a moment. He scratched his head in thought, and then, as if someone suddenly whacked him upside the head, he jolted up from his seat. "Do you remember last year when Crow crashed the Head of Police's annual New Year's Party, and all these Otters operatives began to scope the place afterward?"

Mashiro nodded. How could he forget? It was one of Crow's most dashing escapades: in the end, no one knew how he had even came into the party, let alone how he escaped. **"Soon, everyone will see from a bird's eye view!"** Those were Crow's infamous words that night before he vanished from sight. The Otters were quick to come to the scene that day—from the television set, Mashiro couldn't tell any of the Otters apart from their otter masks and dull gray suits. Takagi began to talk again in anxious exuberance.

"Well, it was then that I realized he was wearing the Otters uniform—you know, the weird gray suit, the bow tie—all except for the otter mask. I started asking around about Miho from my classmates after that—it was then that I learned about you, as well as your other friend Miyoshi Kaya. I didn't really get any good information until I came across this gem: apparently, the guy had been hounding Miho and her mother weeks before I came into the picture, giving them money and passing along letters."

"Now I know you're a conspiracy theorist," said Mashiro, shaking his head. But even in disbelief, Mashiro's concerns were beginning to rise to the surface. _If there really was a guy that was hounding her, then why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she tell Kaya? _

"Doubt me all you want, but I have a feeling there's more behind this than what meets the eye."

Mashiro frowned; he hated being put into a corner like this. _Maybe it was better if I never went off with this guy_.

"Alright, I admit it—what you described does sound suspicious. But I refuse to believe that this has anything to do with Otters. For petes sake, they're the ones trying to _help_ find Miho; why would they kidnap her and then help try to find her? It makes no sense."

Takagi scratched his head in thought. _Finally putting him into a corner_, thought Mashiro.

"Well, I haven't really figured out that part of the puzzle yet. But I do know one thing: Otters, for whatever reason, is a part of why Miho disappeared." The brunette walked towards the swing set, leaning his weight against the flatness of the metal support. "I'm kind of surprised. I though you of all people would be the most suspicious about Otters."

Now Mashiro was scratching his head. "And why would that be?" he asked, not even trying to hide his exhaustion in his tone.

"Because," said Takagi, with some astonishment, "your uncle was one of the founders of Otters."


	3. The Haunting Streets

_Bakuman is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takashi Obata_

* * *

><p><em>Once upon a time, there was The Boy of the Forest and The Boy of the City. <em>

_The Boy of the Forest was raised by frogs as a prince. Each day he was to guard the little pond of the forest and protect his family from danger. _

_The frogs took good care of him in return, stealing food from the outside world to feed him: his favorite food was red apples, which he'd savor with each bite._

_Though The Boy of the Forest loved his frog family and his home, his curiosity about the outside world and himself grew. What am I? What else is out there? Unbeknownst to his family, The Boy of the Forest had begun to feel alone._

_The Boy of the City, on the other hand, was raised by human parents as their child. Each day he would be sent off to school and work hard to make his parents proud._

_The parents took good care of him in return, giving him material gifts for his academic achievements: his favorite gift was his red kite, which he'd fly each Saturday by the forest._

_Though The Boy of the City loved his human parents and his home, his curiosity about the outside world and himself grew. Who do I want to be when I grow up? What else is out there? Unbeknownst to his family, The Boy of the City had begun to feel alone._

_The two boys, full of loneliness, could not have known that on one fortunate day they would meet each other._

* * *

><p>Before five minutes ago, Mashiro could have gone on living on the belief that his family was largely unremarkable.<p>

That wasn't to say that he didn't appreciate his family. Even as a child Mashiro appreciated his mother's efforts to raise him single-handedly, and couldn't imagine having his grandfather out of the picture.

What was 'unremarkable' was the family history—to his knowledge up to those recent five minutes , the Moritaka lineage hadn't any royal ties or inspired rebels in the family to speak of, no black sheep or cheesy romances worth noting. While other kids in elementary school would share exciting figures from their families—a great grandfather that was a samurai, a war hero—Mashiro was stuck; he eventually made up interesting stories, taking some ideas from the manga he'd read. The teacher, after deciphering his story, would give a gentle scolding later. "Your son is very imaginative," he remembered her saying once, during a parent-teacher conference required by all students. He couldn't tell whether that was a compliment or a complaint.

Mashiro gazed upon the laptop screen. Fourteen years of disillusionment went down the drain.

**The Japan Times**

**Article date: April 2, 2005**

"**Former Otters Member Reveals Private Identity"**

**After ten years of hard work and service, and another ten years in hiding, founder and former member of Otters, Mashiro Nobuhiro, revealed his connections with the organization in yesterday's discussion panel at the Tokyo Writer's Conference. **

**The panel was a question and answer session in regards to Mashiro's latest childrens book, ****The Adventure Brothers****, as well as his previous works. At the end of the panel, an audience member asked whether his previous childrens books had a purposeful connection with Otters, specifically the 2001 Firehouse Incident, which helped to jumpstart the organization's power and influence. "I won't deny that there's some allegory about that," said Mashiro. The author continued to reveal his past associations with the group: he was not only a contributer but also one of the first eleven founders of the organization. Mashiro, during his time as an Otter, went under the alias of Kawaguchi Taro; he had spent a near decade of his life to the organization before he decided to move on.**

**Spectators naturally asked Mashiro about his reasons for leaving Otters. "For a very long time, I've been Kawaguchi Taro. Even after I left, I had a hard time separating myself from that persona. I suppose my earlier works were a reflection of finding myself again, perhaps unconsciously through recreating my experiences while I was an Otter."**

**The panel ended soon after this proclamation from Mashiro. The information revealed by Mashiro, as well as their implications, are still being investigated at this time. **

Finishing the article, Mashiro scrolled down to the bottom of the webpage. Underneath the article were some more related links. _There's more?_ thought Mashiro. He clicked onto the next related article:

**Article date: April 5, 2005**

**Author Mashiro Nobuhiro has confirmed that his first book, ****Tale of the Half-Men****, was specifically related to the Firehouse Incident of 2001. In the book, the village people ostracize the half-men, creatures with a gaping hole in their chests. As the book progresses, the village is in danger of being engulfed in flames, though the villagers themselves are unaware. Seeing the incoming danger, the half-men warn the townspeople and bring them to safety. The villagers accept the half-men into the community, but in a dark twist of fate, the half-men begin to outnumber and have more power over the villagers. **

**When asked further about the implications of the book's ending, Mashiro had this to say: "Take the ending at face value. It says what I mean perfectly well on its own."**

Another related article; this time it was an event Mashiro could recognize:

**Article date: April 15, 2005**

**Mashiro Nobuhiro, author of four praised children's books and a former member of Otters, died in a car accident last night. He was—**

Mashiro didn't need to read the rest. His mother had told him that his Uncle hadn't made it to the hospital on time—his lungs were punctured in the midst of the crash. He was seven years old at the time, and hadn't been too close to his Uncle to fully understand his mother's pain, as well as his grandfather's. Still, Mashiro could remember his funeral: how his mother held his hand tight during the service, how he had bowed in front of his Uncle's picture frame, his coffin, and watched it slowly be buried under.

_That picture book_, he realized, _that one mom would read—was one of __**his**__ books._

It was too much to take in—Uncle Nobuhiro, Otters, Miho—so Mashiro shut off his laptop. He looked upon the ceiling, questions building inside his mind. _What does this mean? Did Uncle really know something devious about Otters? How does Miho fit in to all this? _

The lack of answers was enough to make his head hurt. He shook his head, groaned at the thought of actually believing the scruffy-headed Takagi. _Who am I kidding? So what if he knew about my uncle; that doesn't mean he's right! _

Mashiro sighed. He agreed to meet Takagi the next day after school, though calling it an 'agreement' was an understatement. The glasses-wearing brunette had actually insisted on it. _"Meet me outside at the Junchrio gate tomorrow—and don't forget to look up those articles!"_

"Moritaka! Dinner is ready!"

* * *

><p>It was a traditional family supper: friend sardines, a bowl of rice, and vegetable curry. Mashiro peered over the rim of the rice bowl as he ate, watching his family eat in silence. His mother swiftly wiped her lips with a napkin before nabbing two more sardines onto her plate. His grandfather chewed slow like the gears of a watch—soft noises escaped from his lips, nodded from time to time to reassure himself of the taste. Mashiro placed the bowl down on the table, rested his chopsticks on top. <em>I guess now's a good time as any.<em>

"Is it true that Uncle Nobuhiro was a part of Otters?"

Mashiro's mother raised a brow, rested her water glass on the placemat. His grandfather turned around to his grandson, his irises glimmering with intrigue.

"Well yes, Moritaka—why the sudden interest?"

Mashiro shrugged his shoulders. "I was just thinking about Uncle, that's all."

His mother sighed. She began to cut up the sardines, slicing them through the middle so they became two halves.

"I really don't know what had gotten into him in those days—thinking he could be a hero, I suppose. Your Uncle didn't contact us for a long time until he started writing those books. Then he started getting press attention, making all those claims…he would have been better off if he hadn't joined, that's for sure."

Grandfather swallowed a bite of curry before putting in his two cents.

"Sometimes," he began, more towards his mother than to Mashiro himself, "a boy must walk through the dark to find the light." He turned towards Mashiro. "Your Uncle was a youthful dreamer, Moritaka. Youthful dreamers tend to make mistakes—big ones. I don't think it's a stretch to say that my son had regrets by the end of his life."

His grandfather took a sip of his oolong tea, held it firm in his palm.

"But what else can a man do but follow what he thinks is right? You have to do the best you can with what you have."

Mashiro leaned forward in his seat.

"Was Uncle a part of the rescue during the Firehouse Incident?"

"Oh please, Moritaka. No more of these questions." His mother thumped her knife onto the table, her eyes shrugged into a tight glare.

"Nobuhiro was there," answered his grandfather. "He got a nasty burn on his forearms after that. Kept hiding them under these long-sleeved shirts, even in the summer. You remember his shirts, don't you Moritaka?"

Mashiro nodded. He remembered those shirts—his Uncle would arrive at their door for New Years wearing an ugly purple sweater with a brown stripe through the middle. When Uncle hugged him, the loose strands of the sweater would rub off into his hair, his clothes, sometimes he had to spit them out of his mouth. His Uncle wore a sweater for every visit, even in those hot summer days in Tokyo when you could melt ice faster than lighting a candle.

The Firehouse Incident. It jump-started the Otters organization into the limelight, and for good reason. That summer day in 2001, a bomb was set off in the Tokyo Fire Department, injuring many officers and killing some innocents in the process. Otters helped to rescue injured officers caught within the burning building, as well as help the Police Department defuse another bomb set to implode in the main police station. So many of Mashiro's classmates at school had a relative that experienced the incident; it was an incident they wouldn't soon forget. Since that incident, vigilantes and wanna-be heroes have appeared and disappeared through the course of time, trying to recapture the success of Otters. Crow and the Kiyoshi Knight were just a couple among many who were intriguing enough to remain a well-discussed topic among the citizens of Tokyo.

The raven haired teen asked no more questions after that—he could tell that his mother was still prickly over the topic. Instead he thought of those ugly sweaters, of that spectacle-wearing man he knew so little about, and his picture books, left behind in the corner of the family bookshelf.

* * *

><p>"Well," started Takagi, "do you believe me now?"<p>

"Not yet," said Mashiro.

Takagi leaned his back against the Junchrio gate. He chuckled softly, scratched his head.

"Sheesh, you're not easy to please, are you?"

Mashiro tightened his grip over his book bag strap.

"Everything you said might be true," he said. "You might be right about Miho, Otters, might even be right about my Uncle. But as long as you don't have proof, what you say means absolutely zero."

The scruffy-headed boy paused for a moment, looking back at Mashiro. He held a neutral frown, searching eyes, until they lit up in sparks.

"Alright then. We'll prove it."

Mashiro thought he misheard something.

"What?" he asked, truthfully confused.

"Just what I said: we're going to prove that Otters kidnapped Miho. We'll investigate, get all the evidence, just like you said, Saiko."

His eyebrows raised high, Mashiro couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What do you mean, 'investigate'? We're not detectives—heck we're not even adults! No one would take us seriously."

"They would if we found enough evidence to prove it. We would at least get their interest—I'm sure the newspapers would eat it up! And who knows, maybe if the presses and everybody started talking about it, they'll release Miho. We got to at least try."

Mashiro shook his head in frustration. _Really, if I had known that talking with this guy would be such a pain in the butt, I would've walked away_.

"When did this become a 'we' thing?"

"When you decided to trust me."

Takagi really meant what he said, despite how cheesy it sounded. Mashiro could see it in the brunette's eyes: a youthful honesty, perhaps the same honesty as his late Uncle. He joined Takagi in leaning against the gate, looking down onto his scuffed up shoes.

"You know, it's not as easy as all that—we don't even know where to begin."

Takagi jumped up to the challenge.

"That's an easy one—we start at the scene of the crime!"

* * *

><p>She slipped through the door, hands and knees on the floor as she made her way across the room. The watchman was asleep—though he sat on a stool, he managed to make a pillow out of the corner of the wall, right next to the front door. It was locked, of course—at least four different locks and one alarm system. They upped the ante from her first and only attempt so far. This time, Miho had a safer bet.<p>

In between his nasal snoring she crept behind the beer-scented sofa. A sharp pain in her left knee—a little shard of glass was left behind from the last meeting. One of the members cut a bottle open, showed its teeth in front of her. She shook her head at the memory. She couldn't stall.

Miho pushed onward, made her way to the kitchen drawer. The man hadn't been so smart, putting it in the drawer in front of her. She opened the drawer slowly—the phone sat atop the miscellaneous piles of paper and rubber bands, of a bottle opener and old business cards.

As she picked it up, Miho realized that the man had stopped snoring. She looked up to see him wordlessly head towards her. She screamed, ran towards her room—the hostage room. She dialed as fast as she could, any number, as he grabbed her by the arm. When he tried to reach for the phone Miho dove down, shielded it with her back. The call was still dialing, the tone long and monotonous. The man clawed into the meat of her arm, trying to yank her out of her shield. Her heart was a hummingbird as he began to lift her up by force. _Please get through!_

The tone lifted.

"Hello?"

The man's nails were digging into her hand, clawing out the phone.

"Please help me!" she yelled, before the man grabbed the phone, hanging it up.

When he led her back into her room, he held out the phone.

"Now you've done it." He closed the door, locked it. She heard him call the boss, telling him of the incident. Minutes later, a slam of a mallet—the sound of crushed plastic.

Miho buried her face into the pillow. _Please let it be that they heard me_, she prayed. The midnight shadows of Tokyo haunted her through the streaks of the blinds, through the horrid sound of the mallet echoing in her ears.


	4. Investigations

_Bakuman is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takashi Obata_

* * *

><p>Mashiro felt uneasy as he stood in front of the residential gate. It was Miho's home. He hadn't stepped inside since the day of the incident.<p>

_He remembered that day vividly. As per tradition, the three friends stopped by at Miho's after school. Miyuki, Miho's mother, served the kids lemonade and they talked for a bit about their day. Miyuki was as cheerful as ever chatting away at the dining table._

_"You know, I'm thinking about moving after Miho graduates," she confessed. "Somewhere quieter, like Enoshima or Osaka. What do you think?"_

_Kaya gladly began listing available moving places for Miyuki. As Kaya droned on, Mashiro turned to look at Miho, who was cleaning dishes near the kitchen sink. Though her back was turned, Mashiro could tell there was something wrong with her. He could tell by the languid way Miho scrubbed at a bowl, how she hadn't even bothered to keep up with the conversation. When Miho caught Mashiro's glance, she gave him a small smile, as if to assure him that she was fine._

_I should've asked her about it in person_. _I should've known that something was up._

Mashiro's guilt was a paperweight against his chest, sinking further into a deep trench. He didn't have time to mope, though. Takagi insisted that they go back to 'the scene of the crime', and was adamant to see their mission through. The scruffy-head was about to ring at the doorbell.

"Wait," said Mashiro. He spoke in a nervous spurt, low and a little scratchy. Takagi stopped mid-press, his arm reclining back along his side. The other teen cleared his throat of its scratchiness before speaking.

"Takagi, I think it might be better if I went in alone. Miyuki—I mean, Miho's mother, she might be creeped out talking about this with a stranger, even if I'm there."

A short hum escaped Takagi's lips before answering. "Can you handle going in there alone?" he asked.

Mashiro looked back at the house. The overwhelming feeling of dread and anxiety whirled wild in the pit of his stomach. Now that he thought about it, going to 'the scene of the crime' alone seemed the worst possible option. In fact, going into the house at all seemed too much a challenge at the moment. If anything, Mashiro almost felt like running away. Almost.

"Maybe not," he admitted. Mashiro looked back at Takagi; his brows sloped down, the corners of his mouth stretched into an apologetic smile.

"We can go another day," said Takagi.

"No, I handle it." _If I don't try now, I might never get up the courage again._

Takagi pressed the doorbell. It was only a minute before the boys heard the buzzing whirr of the house intercom.

"Azuki residence."

The voice was clearly Miyuki. Mashiro was quick to answer her, pressing the intercom button.

"Hey, Miyuki. It's me, Mashiro."

"Mashiro? Just wait a moment."

Seeing her walking out to open the gate, Mashiro could recognize the toll Miho's disappearance had upon her mother. Though Miyuki seemed as bright as she ever was, there was a slowness to her step. When she smiled towards Mashiro, the expression seemed more forceful than the natural grin she had that afternoon before the disappearance.

"Oh Mashiro, it's so good to see you."

Her eyes glimmered with curiosity upon seeing Takagi. "Now who might you be? Mashiro's friend?" Miyuki inquired most pleasantly.

"Um, he's—" Mashiro didn't quite know the right way to introduce the scruffy-headed teen. To say that Takagi was his friend was about as truthful as saying a wolf accidentally ate a sheep. On the other hand, anything other than that would sound suspicious or strange—no one just says 'here's my accomplice' and gets away unscathed. To his relief, however, his accomplice needed no such guidance.

"Takagi Akito. I was in the same homeroom class as your daughter." The teen bowed his head in respect towards Miyuki. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

Miyuki, wide eyed at first, settled into a soft warm smile. "Likewise. Come in, I was just about to have some tea."

* * *

><p>As Mashiro suspected, being inside the Azuki residence was doing no favors for his psych. The house was just as it was before—the same cheery wallpaper, the same fresh scent he always admired—all excluding the scattered papers in the living room and the rows of coffee mugs that sat by the sink. The boys sat down around the kitchen table as Miyuki poured their cups of green tea. As she served them their glass, she dispelled the observations of Mashiro, as if she peeked into his mind.<p>

"I'm sorry for the mess. The police force left in such a hurry that they forgot to clean up."

Mashiro shook his head. "It's alright, Miyuki. It's not that much of a mess."

Miyuki gave a soft smile, sitting herself down at the table. She propped up her elbow and rested her head into the hammock of her palm. Mashiro could see much clearly her tiredness, how her closed lids seemed scrunched too tight and her voice lacking much of her liveliness.

"Kaya's not with you?"

The anxiety in Mashiro's stomach began to churn. He looked down at his tea cup in thought. Kaya had been staying home from school for the past couple of days. Mashiro's attempts to contact her were in vain; she refused to pick up any calls or texts from her cell phone. The teen shook his head, his expression grim.

"I don't know how to help her," he confessed. "It's like she's locking everything out."

Miyuki nodded. She crossed her arms upon the table, her voice calm and hopeful as she spoke.

"She'll be alright, Mashiro. I'm sure she'll reach out to you when she's ready."

Miyuki turned to Takagi, who was quietly drinking his tea, looking around with a curious eye. The scruffy-head looked very unsure of himself, which Mashiro couldn't help but smirk at. _I guess he's not as outgoing as he makes himself out,_ he thought.

"So you're the famous Akito Takagi, huh? "said Miyuki.

Takagi set down his drink, swallowing before he spoke. "Oh, I don't think 'famous' is the right word…"

"But you're at the top student in the class, aren't you? Close to being the smartest student in the school. That's impressive."

Takagi scratched his head, his cheeks reddening a bit with embarrassment.

"I try my best," he answered. All the while, Mashiro looked on at his accomplice with interest. _So he's the top of his class? Who'd have thunk? _

"Yes, Miho—I mean, whenever I encouraged her to try being the top of her class, she'd say it was impossible. 'Only Takagi and Iwase are ever at the top,' she said. Iwase always comes in second place, too—she must be an amazing girl. "

Takagi made a nervous laugh, now scratching his neck. "Yeah, Iwase is very competitive…" he said in a wavering tone. Seeing the scruffy-head squirm in his seat was quite an amusing sight for Mashiro, the swarming anxiety in his chest dwindling into a more comfortable state.

"Miyuki," began Mashiro. It was taking most of confidence to just consider asking her the question.

"Yes, Mashiro?"

"Miyuki, do you know anything about why Miho disappeared?"

Miyuki paused for a moment. She tucked strands of her hair behind her ear. Though she still had her youthful face, her dour expression aged her some, so much so that Mashiro was beginning to feel guilty for asking.

"As far as I can tell, my daughter had no reason for leaving the house. The last time I saw her, she was in her room studying for her math exam."

Mashiro shrugged into his chair. "Yeah, she told me about that. She texted me before she—"

The teen couldn't bring himself to say it again. He didn't want to hurt Miho's mother more than he already was.

Miyuki leaned forward , her hands clutching the edge of the table. "What did she tell you? Did she say anything?"

Mashiro shook his head. "We just talked. She, uh,"

He couldn't help but blush a bit, remembering how Miho confessed to him. _Should I even tell her about that?_

Miyuki spoke out right away, wide eyed and bright. "Did she confess to you?"

Mashiro blushed more vibrantly, turning into a deep tomato red. Soft stutters slipped from his lips as he tried to compose himself. In his peripheral vision he saw Takagi with a wide smirk, raising a thumbs up from underneath the table. As opposed to the preferable answer of smacking the smile off the scruffy-head's face, Mashiro settled for the less violent alternative of glaring.

Miyuki smiled. "I thought so. You two always looked so cute together."

"I-Is that so?" Mashiro couldn't help but laugh nervously, just as Takagi did. To avoid making even more of a fool out of himself, the teen went back to drinking his tea.

Takagi sat forward in his seat, adjusting his glasses. "Have the police found anything yet?" he said.

Miyuki looked down onto her hands, clasped together in her lap. "Nothing much. They've figured out that she did leave sometime after midnight, but things have been slow since then."

"And you still suspect that she was kidnapped?" Mashiro noted how surprisingly severe Takagi's voice was at that moment. His accomplice held a determined countenance, his brows as straight as his square rim glasses.

Taken aback, Miyuki looked up from her lap. There was a split second of fear—perhaps even knowing—in her eyes. Then, almost just as quickly, Miyuki answered in a calm voice.

"I did at first, but it's beginning to look more unlikely now."

"What about Otters? Have they found anything?" said Mashiro.

"Otters—"

Miyuki paused before answering. "They're all doing the best they can."

Mashiro leaned in, about to speak, when Takagi lightly kicked his chair. _Just leave it be, _it seemed to signify.

"Sorry to be so nosy," said Mashiro.

Miyuki smiled softly, her tired eyes holding a hint of forgiveness. "It's alright," she said. "I'm so glad you came."

* * *

><p>The boys left the house not soon after. It was now the late afternoon in Tokyo, the sky a blazing orange and yellow; the sun was about ready to recede into the city skyline. The suburb sidewalk was darkened with shadows, including that of the two teens, their long legs even skinnier in their silhouetted reflections. Mashiro was a few feet behind Takagi. The scruffy-head still held that serious look on his face, staring intently at the ground. Mashiro wiped off some sweat with the cuff of his sleeve, switched his book bag from one hand to another.<p>

"Hey, slow down. You're walking too fast."

Takagi turned around. He looked almost surprised. "Oh, sorry Saiko."

_Saiko? Is that my nickname now?_ As much as he wanted to complain, Mashiro felt too tired to put up much of a fight. Takagi stopped for the other teen to catch up before walking again, this time right next to Mashiro.

"I was just thinking about what Mrs. Azuki said. I think she knows more than she's letting on."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Just think, Saiko: why would the police not investigate you and your friend? If they had really been doing their job, they would have known that you three walked to school together from Mrs. Azuki."

Mashiro, struck by the realization of it, began to ponder himself. In the last few days, his family received no other word or notice about Miho's appearance, with the exception of Miyuki's call.

"If the police really are investigating, then why would Mrs. Azuki withhold such information? And why was she so adamant before about her daughter being kidnapped?"

Mashiro shrugged his shoulders. The weight of his anxiety began to settle back down in the pit of his stomach.

"And you think this all has to do with Otters."

Takagi looked back at Mashiro, with a spark in his eyes. "Exactly!"

Mashiro sighed.

"Now, just here me out," said Takagi. "The paper said that Otters was also involved with the investigation, right? Well, maybe Otters are the ones that are actually in charge of the case."

"All speculation," replied Mashiro.

"But you saw how she reacted to Otters. She freaked out! She paused before giving us her answer—an answer that, by the way, didn't really answer your question at all."

Mashiro thought back to Miyuki's words.

"_They're all doing the best they can."_

Despite the neutral tone of her voice, her words seemed too artificial then. The mention of Otters was definitely a reaction; what kind of reaction, Mashiro hadn't a clue.

"Then I guess we need to do more detective work, don't we?"

The corners of Takagi's mouth pulled wide into a bright smile. "That's the spirit, Saiko! I knew you'd believe me!"

"If by believe you mean I believe your argument's full of holes. Anyway, what's with 'Saiko'?"

"Well, if you read your name a certain way, it comes out Saiko. Clever, huh?"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that. It sounds like 'psycho' to me."

"Oh hey, I just noticed that. You have a good ear, Saiko."

"Stop calling me that!"

The sunset streets of Tokyo, though covered in shadows, seemed less foreboding and lonesome for Mashiro as he walked home with his new, strange accomplice.

* * *

><p><strong>From: miyoshi-k<strong>

**Subject: Mashiro!**

**Come over here right now! It's important!**

* * *

><p>When Mashiro arrived at her house, Kaya was already waiting outside the residence gate. She was still wearing her pajamas, though she wore a coat over her pajama top. Unlike the usual high ponytail the girl often wore, Kaya's hair was let down, strands of locks curled on one side or another. Mashiro felt a bit overdressed in comparison, though wearing his old slip-on sneakers certainly helped.<p>

Having ran all the way from his house (at the discouragement of his mother), Mashiro leaned against a bar of the gate, trying to catch his breath. As he looked up at Kaya, he could tell that she was in a worse state then before.

"You're late." She said it without her usual teasing; now he knew something was very off.

"Sorry. Phone was on silent."

Kaya kept her arms crossed, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm. Her face was a bit red—Mashiro couldn't tell whether it was from the cold evening breeze or from crying.

"Miho called me."

The words stuck him like a jolt of lightning. He almost lost his breath. "What?"

Kaya voice began to shake. Her arms wrapped around closer to her chest.

"I just couldn't go to school Mashiro. I just couldn't believe she could disappear like that. I-I just kept trying to call her, but no one would answer."

She leaned closer to Mashiro so that they were a few inches apart. A pocket of tears began to well up in her eyes.

"I was just about to give up until last night. My home phone rang. When I picked it up, it was Miho—I know it was her."

Kaya began to cry into Mashiro's shoulder. Unsure of himself, he brought one arm around her, pulling her into a hug. She continued to speak, even through the tears and stutters in her voice.

"She said, 'please save me!' The phone line was hung up before I could say anything else."

Mashiro's mind was in a whirlwind as he held Kaya in the Tokyo night air. _'Please save me'? Wouldn't that mean-_

"I tried calling her back, but it said her number wasn't available. Everyone else I called-the police, the operator, they all say the call didn't happen, but I-!"

Kaya pulled away from Mashiro's shoulder, trying to clear her eyes of her tears, wiping her nose with her coat sleeve. As the last of her sobs began to settle down, Mashiro began to speak.

"We'll save her, Kaya."

"Huh?" Kaya looked up, brushing off the last couple of tears.

"I mean, if the police can't do it, then we need to take matters in our own hands. Me and Takagi are already going our own way about it."

"Takagi?" Kaya laughed softly, sniffling as she did so. "I guess I missed a lot while I was gone."

"I'll catch you up to date," said Mashiro, a small smile at the corner of his lips.

Kaya shook her head, arms crossed. "You idiot," she said in her teasing way. She continued in a more serious tone, her voice a bit scratchy from crying. "We're just kids, you know. Can we really save anyone?"

"We won't know until we try," said Mashiro. "It beats doing nothing."

Kaya said nothing at first. She looked out into the Tokyo sky, as if all the answers might fall into place if she searched hard enough. She soon looked away, turned her gaze towards Mashiro.

"Alright, Mister Detective," she said. "What did I miss?"


End file.
